


A Night in Tunisia

by galifreyas



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 16:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11948595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galifreyas/pseuds/galifreyas
Summary: Shepard has a peculiar way of showing people she loves them, that is by sharing a chaotic and marvelous song that found her early in life, before she memorized Euler’s formula, wore lipstick or learned how to kiss.





	A Night in Tunisia

The maracas start to rattle, as if they’re asking a defiant question. The answer flows freely once the drums rise to silence them. Their voice, bold and self assured, fills the air for a long time. He follows the beat, listens closely and attempts to translate its meaning. Intuitively he understands that this is a language. Complex, unpredictable and involving an exquisiteness that he has never experienced before. But a language nonetheless, an ensemble of sounds with the sole purpose of expressing meaning.

He looks up, attempting to meet her eyes once the bass, claves and maracas merge their soulful voices with the drums. Her eyes are shut and her hands follow the beat flawlessly. Thane wonders if he’s getting it right. Wonderful percussions. Pleasing. Even exciting. Yet, he doesn’t feel the melody getting into his bones. Stirring him up as it should. It is not what he was expecting.

Shepard, however, has been cleansed of any concerns. It’s the first time he has seen her at peace. Truly at peace. He can almost see her at the age of thirteen, sitting in her room, listening to the same song with her mother. Sharing it with her but avoiding explanation at all costs.

“It isn’t something you can put into words. Either you get it or you don’t,” she had told him minutes before and a thirteen year old version of Shepard had delivered the same lines to her mother almost two decades ago.

That night, her mother listened to  _A Night in Tunisia_ performed by Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers over and over again and never came to love it as much as her daughter. The next day, she signed her up for saxophone lessons.

He first learned of Shepard’s saxophone when Joker asked her if Thane had inspired her enough to play  _Careless Whisper_. She left the room without saying a word. Half an hour later, Joker found her in the cockpit, where she had repeatedly played the song until she got bored. Joker soon discovered that Shepard had instructed EDI to play said song whenever he swore.

“More effective than a swear jar, Moreau!”  

That evening, Thane finally inquired about what had sparked her interest in the saxophone. The story was brief. Jazz found her early in life, before she memorized Euler’s formula, wore lipstick or learned how to kiss.

“I’d be interested in hearing what you hear,” Thane said.

“Holiday, Coltrane, Gillespie, Davis, Blakey, Ellington, Carmichael. You know, the usual suspects.” She dropped the names lightly, as if she didn’t want to pique his curiosity. “They said everything I wanted to say and better. And when I played the sax, and I mean  _really_ played it for the first time, it was like I was finally finding all the right words to express what I meant. And if I made a mistake, I could turn it to my advantage. I could improvise and come up with something better.”

She smiles in anticipation, welcoming the arrival of the piano, the saxophone and the trumpet. There it is, all over her face. The dawn of a feeling he can’t pinpoint. Awe. Desire. Healing. Amusement. Sorrow. Nostalgia. Joy. Magic. Thane realizes that jazz is home to her. She’s not just listening, she’s living it. She slips into the rhythm the same way he slips into his memories.

His eyes open wide and the music reverberates both in the past and the present. 

_Awe_. He sees Irikah for the first time. Sunset-colored eyes defiant in the scope. His heart stops.  _Desire_. He must see her again. Meet her. He follows her.  _Healing._  He falls on his knees. Begs for her forgiveness. She’s gentleness and compassion. She loves him. She wakes him up.  _Amusement._  Kolyat. Small and innocent. He dances freely around him, like that melody merging past and present together.  _Sorrow._ She’s gone. He leaves Kolyat behind. He slips into his battle sleep once more.  _Nostalgia._ The drala’fa. They’re everywhere. Invisible children. Broken teeth. Barefoot. Abandoned, much like his own child.  _Joy._ She pushes him. She moves fast. Fierce. Chaos and destruction. Follows a unique rhythm in battle. Improvises. Protects him as much as he protects her. She sees him. Listens. Awakens something than had been long dormant. “I feel something for you too.”  _Magic._ That instant. The past becomes the present and the song is coming to an end and her lips twist into a half smile.

“Thank you, siha.”

She glances at him, and nods. Opens her mouth, immediately regretting it. She’s struggling to find the right words. He waits patiently, offering her the same kindness she has offered him time and time again.

“I’ve only shared this song with mom.” She says warily.

“How come?”

She shrugs, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“I guess I never felt like sharing it with anyone else.”

Thane notices that  _A Night in Tunisia_  isn’t a romantic song. When she finally agreed to play it for him, he imagined a sweet, slow and enticing melody, dripping like honey, like most of the jazz songs he was acquainted with. Only to find out it was playful, brave and unpredictable. Much like Shepard herself. But to her, it is the backbone of what she has come to love above all else. It is the sensation of falling in love before she knew what love felt like.

He realizes he has successfully translated what the song means, to her and now to himself. And he feels everything all over again. Awe. Desire. Healing. Amusement. Sorrow. Nostalgia. Joy. Magic. Love.

He’s about to thank her again when he hears Kolyat’s voice calling him, dragging him into the present. Shepard, her cabin and the moment dissolve. Once more, he had escaped into memory, like he usually did whenever he was alone at his apartment listening to  _A Night in Tunisia._ He feels the weight of Kolyat’s hand and of his longing for Shepard on his shoulders.

“Father?”

“I’m sorry, Kolyat. I’m here.” He looks at his son and smiles, like every time he visits. “Thank you for stopping by. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I called several times. I was worried you were not well.” Kolyat sighs. “The doctor instructed you to restrict the time you spend scavenging the past. Please, Father.”

Thane says nothing. He knows Kolyat is right and that he should take better care of himself, for his sake. But sometimes, Thane is exhausted. Waiting for death. He walks around the Citadel, gives directions to tourists who seem lost, wishes a good day to anyone who crosses his path, seeks the drala’fa and offers them warm clothes, food and company. He calls Kolyat on a daily basis. He reads. He writes to Shepard. He prays. But in the evenings, when time dilates and the heavy sound of solitude crushes him, making it harder for him to breathe, he finds happiness through that song and he lets himself go. Perhaps it rushes death, it invites it in, but if he’s not to die in battle, wouldn’t this be a good way to go?

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” Kolyat speaks and Thane shakes the thought away, feeling embarrassed by it. “About visiting Earth.”

“Yes?”

“I would like to accompany you, if that’s okay.”

Thane smiles foolishly and feels like he could hug Kolyat and lift him up in the air, just like when he was little. Before he’s able to say anything, his son speaks again:

“But you can’t listen to that mess of a song while we’re together. It drives me insane.”

The saxophone emphasizes the final moments of the song, an ecstatic cry he has come to appreciate. He chuckles and nods.  _That’s how I’d like to depart from my body, one final wild cry._

He wonders if once he’s gone, Kolyat will cling to this mess of a song and make it his. If he’s going find parts of his father in the melody just as he finds parts of Shepard in it. He thinks of Shepard’s mother, listening to the song over and over again, accepting her daughter’s love for something she couldn’t understand but still cherished it with all her heart because it was an important part of someone she loved. He can guess that Shepard’s mother still listens to it whenever she wants to feel close to her daughter. And perhaps the song, which once belonged to Shepard and her mother; and then morphed into a symbol of intimacy between himself and Shepard; would come to mean something for Thane and Kolyat. And if Kolyat was able to get it, would it eventually belong to him and whoever it was he would come to love deeply?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago after falling head over heels for A Night in Tunisia.


End file.
